


NSFW

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Co-workers, Dean and Castiel are Coworkers, Enemies, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Humor, IT - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Porn Video, References to Canon, work setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: "What are you doing surfing porn during work hours?!""What are you doing on my porn site?!"





	NSFW

"What are you doing surfing porn during work hours?!"

"What are you doing on my porn site?!"

Cas whips his head around them like the building is under siege, which is the prelude to how Dean ends up pressed against the break room wall.

Cas’s breath hits Dean's neck like a poltergeist, cold and indeterminate. His right hand is over Dean's mouth and Dean can't tell if he's going to carry out what he just saw on his computer screen, or if he's seriously threatening to do harm.

Either way, when Cas's dark blue and calculating eyes narrow like an archery bow balancing the weight of an arrow, Dean nods. He’s not taking any chances on anyone who can manhandle him. He learned that years ago after his experience at the _Roadhouse_.

Dean can explain. First of all, he’ll admit, yes, he _was_ surfing porn, but only because he got so bored. It’s not like he’s going to jack off to the labored tune of archetypal voyeurism at work. He was scrolling through and saving some for later, in the privacy of his own home.

That’s when he saw his coworker, in his birthday suit, riding another guy like a professional jockey.

"Just..." Cas glances around again, even though they're the only two in here. "Please," he says, dropping both the façade and his hand. This close, Dean can see the dry parting of his pink, trapezoidal lips. "I really like this job, okay? I don't want to lose it."

"What, porn didn't pay enough?"

Cas sighs, "It's a long story."

"Cas, we work in IT. We listen to long stories every day."

"I'm positive there's not a simple control, alt, delete fix for this one."

"Try me." Dean's surprised at his own challenge when it comes out. Maybe this is retaliation for that time Cas called him a lumberjack (it's flannel, everyone knows flannel doesn't go out of style— ask any pre-pubescent teen that owns a Nirvana shirt). Or maybe Dean's just curious... or, parts of him better left clothed, anyway.  

Either way, it's out, and he can see Cas fidget a little in his stance before detaching himself from Dean to turn his back on him. It's not like he and Cas are best friends. Far from it, actually. Cas is arrogant and Dean is sarcastic—two personality types that make for a toxic mix. Dean's tried his best to avoid him for the past year since he was hired on, but to no avail, since he’s situated next to his tiny workstation and all. And it’s even harder now that Dean’s seen his... data-encrypted files.

"Why?" he asks, spinning around to look at Dean again. "Why do you care?"

Cas's eyes on his feel like a tsunami tearing through the forest, and Dean finds himself, being a lumberjack and all, at a loss for the fight to preserve the natural world. "Well... uh..." _Pull it together, Winchester._ "For starters, every time I've blinked since you dragged me in here, I've seen the outline of a dick I used to think you’ve been overcompensating for, so now I need to know what it is actually that makes you an extra-large asswipe."

Cas scoffs, "Asswipe. That’s probably the nicest thing you've called me yet."

"Douchebag got old."

Cas laughs, barely. It sounds like nothing more than a puff of air.

"That’s the most I've heard you laugh yet,” Dean mimics.

"Yeah," Cas replies, nodding as a crack in his porcelain face appears just around his lips, "I don't do much of that anymore."

Dean has to admit, as much as he loathes him, Cas is a really handsome dude. And he's a little more tolerable with a smile, so he asks after a beat, "What happened?"

Cas takes a moment before he speaks again.

"I was homeless before this job," he says, biting his lip as he pulls up a chair. A small laugh escapes him, "You wouldn't have even recognized me. Shaggy hair and clothes, thick beard... anyway, a guy named Bartholomew approached me with a job. Gave me a place to stay, steady pay, so I didn’t question my morals. Especially since, at the time, I was trying to win back my girlfriend, April.

“I hated the sex. Every minute of it. But it was a job. My mom always said not to bite the hand that feeds you, so I shut up for a while. But I quit after I applied here without Bartholomew’s knowledge. Singer hired me onto the IT crew and then, the only pain in my ass I had to deal with was you..." Dean chooses to roll the comment over his eyes for Cas to continue, "I just need a total reboot.”

"As in?" Dean asks.

"As in my life,” Cas answers. He closes his eyes and shakes his head after taking a winded breath.

"We can do that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we can get paid to do less,” Dean says, moving to pull up the chair across from Cas, whose face is still furrowed, reading obvious confusion. “Think about it, man, we’re IT. This could be our chance to actually do something, I don’t know, _fun_ for a change.”

“You call deleting my pornographic past _fun?”_

Dean lowers his head. “Of course not. That’s the _last_ thing I wanted to see today. I just mean it’ll be like an adventure.”

“An _adventure_?” Cas scoffs.

“I’m not good with words, alright?”

Cas shakes his head with another scoff, “I can’t believe I’m putting my trust in you.”

A sideways smile crosses Dean’s face. “So is that a yes?”

Cas replies with a groan.

 

 

“How do you know all this?”

“We’re IT, remember?”

“No, this is too high tech, even for IT,” Cas remarks, casting Dean a look of suspicion. “Who are you?”

Dean laughs. “More like who is _she,”_ he corrects. “My best friend Charlie’s a hacker. She’s taught me a few tricks here and there.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“We’ve sat next to each other for a whole year now, and we know nothing about each other.”

Dean turns his head to Cas, whose face is illuminated by the bright blue screen of the PC and unspoken apologies. Everyone else is gone, replaced by the hum of the old-school monitor filling the room. “So, um,” he says, quickly turning away to resume typing, “your girlfriend, did you guys… hook up again after all that happened with you?”

“No, not exactly,” he says. “She’d already moved on by then.”

Dean’s clicking comes to a slow. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. I mean, she was my first time, but after everything, sex has become the least of my concerns,” he says. “I mean, whatever happened to good, old-fashioned spooning?”

Dean shrugs. “I can dig spooning. I just need a good fork every now and then to dig into some pie.”

Cas blinks incomprehensively. “I cannot believe you just whipped out a dad joke. I’m offended.”

“Comes with the territory,” he replies with a small smile.

Cas’s mouth hangs open. “O-oh. Um… how many kids do you have?”

“Just the one,” Dean replies, “but Emma’s handful enough, let me tell you. Teenagers.”

Dean used to be cool when he was a little older than Emma. He’d hit up every dive bar in town for a good screw (as good as they can be shit-faced, anyway) get high in Plucky Pennywhistle’s famous ball pit, and even jammed with Vince Vencente and his band once after his brother scored backstage pages–the true definition of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

Nowadays, he’s much more low-key, roleplaying in a fictional universe called Moondoor—introduced to him by the Queen, Charlie—as the commanding officer in charge of leading his brave men (and women) into battle with the Shadow Orcs, which is still pretty cool, but with Emma’s graduation around the corner, it’s meant less time defeating Max Hilby and his army.

Cas nods with a smile himself. “I have a niece, Claire. I’m not very devout, at least not anymore, but I pray for Jimmy every day.”

Dean laughs a little, but he has to ask, “So, that tattoo on your stomach…”

“Oh no,” Cas says, voice muffled in his hands after he leans back in his chair to hide himself and it’s actually kind of cute—no sarcasm behind it, “you saw it.” He lets his hands fall from his eyes and down his mouth before they eventually rest in his lap, like raindrops against a window before they sink back into the earth. That’s when Dean can see the blush highlighting his tanned cheeks. “Yeah, no, that’s definitely a religious tattoo. I, um… I used to meddle in Enochian magic. It’s the language of the angels. Hence the inspiration for my porn name.”

Dean tries and fails, apparently, to suppress a smile, because Cas is leaning forward to shove him with a laugh, “Stop! You’re such a dick!”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“I think we’re actually starting to like each other.”

Cas gasps before hitting him again, “Jesus, you scared me, I thought something happened with the videos.”

“What videos?”

“Dean, the videos... of me…” Cas says, gesturing to the computer. His eyes follow his own movement and a full-on grin attacks his face. “Unbelievable.”

“There’s nothing there.”

“There’s… nothing there,” Cas repeats, shaking his head. He turns to Dean, expression softening, even though he looks like he’s on the verge of crying. “Thank you. Seriously, I owe you.”

Dean smiles despite the pain behind it. He’s never starred in pornos, but he knows what it’s like to harbor a secret for so long. Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to look at what he saw of Cas without the crippling paranoia that someone would dig up his search history and use it against him somehow. Even when he would bar hop, shack up with all those dudes, he would have their backs facing him so he couldn’t see their faces.

Luckily, he’s not that person anymore, scared of his own identity, but it still haunts him to think that he once was. “You’re welcome,” he says, shaking off the thought. For a moment, they just stare at each other, and then Dean asks, “So, um, I have sort of a random question.”

“Why did I name myself Thursday’s Angel?” Cas pauses to laugh, ducking his head in doing so. “My name, Castiel, that’s actually what it translates to. Thursday’s Angel. I guess it’s my lucky day.”

Dean nods slowly, mostly taking his time to calm his hastening heart. “So, if I asked you on a date this Thursday… would I be lucky enough to receive a yes?”

Cas’s tongue pokes out from the large smile on his face. “Absolutely. Yes.”

 


End file.
